Roller Coaster

I've been on a roller coaster this past week. If you know much about me, then you know that I hate roller coasters, always have. But the one I've been on is the very worst kind - the emotional roller coaster. I keep wishing I could go back in time to last Sunday, when life was simpler. My problems were few and insignificant. I've known people who have gone through great trials. I've seen others' face problems and wondered how they could handle such an ordeal. But, I've always been on the outside. So, while I had sympathy for what they were going through, I really couldn't relate because I didn't truly know how they were feeling. Being an outsider is kind of nice.

Last Monday we were given the awful news that my Dad has cancer. We kind of knew it was coming, but didn't think it was going to be so bad. We knew he had a lump and thought he might have to go through chemo therapy, and possibly another surgery. But, seeing as how he is a healthy guy and has always said he would live into his 80s, we figured he would be able to fight, conquer, over come, and be given a clean bill of health.

I guess I should start from the beginning and give the whole story.

Last December my Dad had some abdominal pains that sent him to the ER. After being examined, an x-ray showed that he had a tumor inside his right kidney. He was sent to a urologist and had surgery a few days before Christmas to remove the kidney. After the surgery, the doctor said that all went well and from what he observed it seemed that the tumor was completely contained within the kidney and that it had not spread anywhere else. A biopsy was performed on the kidney and then the kidney was sent to California for further testing. The results were not as promising. The cancer cells where found to be atypical and they were now not sure if they had spread outside the kidney wall. Still, my Dad said he felt great and didn't think there was anything to worry about.

Three months later my Dad had a follow-up appointment. Another scan found a couple of enlarged lymph nodes. Three months and another scan later, yet another scan showed that the lymph nodes in question had gone back to normal but another had become enlarged and there was now a small lump on a muscle below where the kidney had been. Through all this my Dad maintained his positive attitude and acted like there was nothing to worry about. Just a couple weeks ago, my Dad had another follow-up appointment. This time a scan showed that the lump had doubled in size. My Dad was referred to an oncologist and an appointment was set for the following week, taking us to last Monday, October 10th.

I knew his appointment was at 2:30 and at about 3:15 I almost called my mom to see how it went, but knowing how long doctor's appointment can be, I figured that they were probably still there. I went about my normal day-to-day business and was trying to figure out what I was going to do for dinner when I got a call from my mom. As soon as she started talking I could tell that she had been crying and my heart sank. She said that they wanted to hold a family meeting at 7:00 that night. I was desperate for more information, but all she would tell me was that, "the scenario for the cancer wasn't good." Those terrible words brought tears to my eyes and after hanging up with my Mom, I immediately called Brian and told him that our FHE plans to take a drive up the canyon to see the fall leaves were off.

I couldn't stop crying. Questions and thoughts of different scenarios ran through my head. How bad was it? Maybe the lump was larger than they thought. Maybe it had spread to another organ and he would need a transplant. But, with every scenario I came up with, I figured there had to be a solution and a way to cure the disease.

When we got to my parents home shortly before 7:00, my Dad opened the door and greeted me with a friendly, "Hello Jame" just like he always does. After others had arrived, we found out the horrible, awful truth. My Dad does have cancer, but his is a rare form. Less than 6% of kidney cancer is unclassified and he happens to be one of the unlucky ones. There is no cure. The lump is inoperable. I just couldn't believe what I was hearing. The news was devastating. My Dad is the greatest man I know and in no way deserves to be one of the "unlucky ones".

He went in for a bone scan last Thursday and we will know tomorrow if the cancer has spread into his bones. He also begins chemo therapy treatments tomorrow, in the form of a pill. He will take the pill for 28 days, then stop for 14 days, then back on for 28 days, and so on indefinitely. He will take the pills until his body can't handle it anymore. He has a 1/3 chance that the pills will shrink the lump, 1/3 chance that it will stop the growth, and 1/3 chance that it will continue to grow. Like all medications, the chemo pills have possible side effects, including: fatigue, vomiting, diarrhea, mouth sores, high blood pressure, drying and cracking of hands and feet, and last and worst of all, an infection.

I cried myself to sleep last Monday and after only sleeping a couple hours, I woke Brian up with more crying. I've never cried so much in my life and have never felt such sadness. I love my Dad. I have always looked up to him. He is hardworking, funny, smart, humble, and friendly. He loves and lives the gospel of Jesus Christ. He is a wonderful dad and grandpa and a loving husband. My parents have a perfect marriage. They love each other dearly and I hate seeing them face such a trial. Please pray for them.

The emotional roller coaster of this past week has been great. I have felt sadness and despair, anger and frustration. But I have also felt peace and hope, happiness and joy.

Joy came in the form of a fresh from heaven baby girl, born to Mindy and Marty on Wednesday, October 12th. They named her Megan Martie Eyre and she is beautiful.

Happiness came in the form of my three darling children, who even when I am angry and in a bad mood for reasons they don't understand, can find ways to make me smile and even laugh.

Hope came in the form of a talk given by President Uchtdorf entitled The Infinite Power of Hope that Mindy sent the family to read Tuesday morning. I especially liked the statement, "There may be times when we must make a courageous decision to hope even when everything around us contradicts this hope." It is a wonderful talk and I would encourage everyone to read it.

Peace came in the form of a ski lift ride at Sundance. It is a yearly tradition for Brian and I to take our family up Provo canyon and ride the ski lift in the fall when the leaves are changing. We invited my parents along and it was a nice ending to a very rough week.

Being in the mountains always lifts my spirits. It was such a perfect afternoon, the sky was clear and blue, the leaves were beautiful, and the temperature perfect.

I felt such peace as we road along. I have long since believed in a kind and merciful Heavenly Father. I know he doesn't give people cancer. But he is always there to comfort and sustain us in our trials. We can pray to him and he will wrap his loving arms around us.

I believe that there is great power in prayer. My parents, along with the rest of my family have felt the prayers of family and friends offered in our behalf. I also believe in miracles and am hoping that my Dad might be granted one. He deserves a miracle or two.

I have had the hymn Each Life That Touches Ours for Good in my head throughout the week. My Dad has touched a lot of lives. I think it is impossible to know my Dad and not love him. Today in sacrament meeting, our closing him was Each Life That Touches Ours for Good. I don't think that was a coincidence. It was Heavenly Father's way of wrapping his loving arms around me.


I love you Dad.